


Dark & Stormy

by thinkinghardhardlythinking



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27243184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkinghardhardlythinking/pseuds/thinkinghardhardlythinking
Summary: A dark and stormy night leads to a change in plans for Dean and the Reader.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & You, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 11
Kudos: 47





	Dark & Stormy

It was a dark and stormy night.

The rain was coming down in heavy, almost biblical, torrents that were deafening on the metal roof of the Impala.

You trusted Dean’s driving absolutely, without question, but as Baby made her way along the narrow, winding backroads, the obvious lack of visibility through the windshield, her wipers being outmatched by the sheer force of the downpour, combined with the lack of traction on the road was making you nervous.

“We gotta stop. This is fucking ridiculous.” Dean said, looking up through the windshield but unable to see much but the gushing flow of the torrential rain. “Be better off building an ark.”

“Right?” You said, relieved as he steered the car off the road and onto a quiet patch of land. “Release the Kraken.”

He let out a little laugh as he parked. “Well….I guess we’re here for a while.” He said as he got up and climbed over the back of the front seats to get in the back, swapping places with the green cooler.

You spread out a bit, turning from facing dead on, to across the whole seat bank, taking care to accommodate the cooler as you kicked your boots off and lift up your feet.

“See…that’s what I love about you. You get how important my Baby’s seats are.” He said, chuckling.

You smiled. If there was one thing you knew about Dean, it was how much he loved this car and you got it, it was a beautiful car. You sort of loved her too.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Gonna tell Sam we won’t be back for a while?”

He shook his head and flashed the phone screen with its ‘No Signal’ message at you, and settled back against the leather of the back seat. He pulled his hip flask out and unscrewed the lid, offering it to you.

“Thanks.” You said, taking a gulp of burning whiskey from it. “That’ll warm me up.”

“You cold?”

You were but you didn’t want to say. It had been warm earlier in the day and it had seemed like a good idea to just wear a dress, light and summery. Some might not consider it great vamp slaying attire but actually it was, unrestrictive. Now, however, you were freezing. The only thing worse than being cold and trapped in a storm would surely be to be stuck in a car, in a storm, with a person complaining about the cold, you thought, and you didn’t want to do that to him. But your nonchalant shrug was hardly convincing and he reached to take off his jacket.

“No! Dean…honestly…that’s so sweet but I really couldn’t take your jacket.”

“It’s fine.” He said but he stopped when he saw the insistence on your face. “Um…OK…wait a second…”

He reached around, under the seat and then looked pleased with himself as he brought out a beige cardigan and handed it to you.

“What the…?” You held it up to examine it before looking at him quizzically.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’ve just never seen you wear a cardigan before…..It doesn’t seem very ‘you’.” You put it on and wrapped it tight around you. It smelled like him.

“Yeah…well, it’s just another outfit for questioning people, some folk react better to the warm and fuzzies than they do to the Fed suits.” He said, shrugging in a ‘what you gonna do’ way.

You raised your eyebrow at him sceptically.

“What?” He said, taking a sip from the flask. “I can be fuzzy….I can be warm!” He looked at you with playful outrage, like this was an obvious fact. “In fact, c’mere….” He motioned for you to get in the back with him.

“What….?” You didn’t mean to react so defensively but that took you aback slightly. He had opened his arm wide, to indicate you should make your way into the crook of it. You didn’t mean for your hesitation to be insulting it just seemed a lot more affectionate and intimate than you were used to being with him. Sure, you flirted sometimes but you and he had never actually been anything but friends. You weren’t blind or stupid though, it wasn’t lost on you how attractive he was – in the way he looked and the way he was. That was probably why you were hesitating now. Your friendship would only work if you were very mindful of boundaries. Cuddling up to him in the backseat was definitely not within the boundary of ‘friendship’. You knew because you were ever watchful of it. That fine line that you should never cross. But also….you were cold and you couldn’t deny that you wanted to. That you would want to even if you weren’t feeling borderline hypothermic.

“Oh, for fucks sake…I’m not hitting on you Y/N….will you just come here?” He said, exasperated.

You tried to ignore that his statement felt like a slap in the face as you climbed into the back and sidled in, next to him. He put his arm around you and then rubbed at your arm with his other hand, offering you the flask once more. You took a big gulp. You felt like you might need it.

The rain was not easing up at all, in fact, if anything it was getting heavier, though how that was possible, you did not know. It hammered against the roof violently. You let yourself ease into him for a moment and felt how nice it was. His hands moving to try and warm you up, his scent was manly but comforting – a bit like leather, a bit like whisky, but also warm and deep if a smell could be those things, it was sexy but also weirdly…safe.

“Better?” He asked.

You smiled and nodded. “Much. Thanks.”

He stopped rubbing your arm but kept you close, pulled into his side, as he leaned back to take another sip from the flask and then you took another too.

“Thanks. This is helping. And the cardigan. I didn’t bring that many extra clothes. I thought we’d be home by now. Not stuck in a storm in the middle of nowhere…….” You said.

“We’re not in the middle of nowhere. I know exactly where we are. Driven this way a hundred times. There’s an old farmhouse over there.” He said, pointing out into the darkness. “A barn. No one lives there now but they used to.”

“Great. So, not in the middle of nowhere. Just near some creepy old abandoned farmhouse and barn. Awesome.” You said, your sarcasm nearly off the charts.

He laughed. “We’re safe in here. I won’t let anything get you. And Baby’s a great sheltering place.”

You grabbed the flask and took another big swig as he chuckled at you. A flash of lightning, illuminated him and not long after a loud, booming crack of thunder erupted. It was so strong that you felt it as much as you heard it ringing out. It made you jump unexpectedly. You felt him squeeze you gently to calm you.

You looked out of the window, through the cascading waterfall on the other side of the glass and saw the forks of lightning, like electric fissures of light creating momentary bright and jagged fractures across the depth of black velvet sky. And then there was another explosive rumble of thunder. You jumped again.

“You OK?” He asked, concerned. “Wait…are you scared?” He asked, part amused, part baffled.

“No. I’m not ‘scared’. I don’t know, I just don’t like storms. Never have. The thunder and lightning always freaked me out as a kid and even now…it’s not fear…they just make me uneasy. Unsettled.”

“I don’t know. I kind of like them. There’s something sexy about them….”

You turned to look at him. You would have rolled your eyes but he wasn’t saying it in his usual Dean way, when he was trying to flirt by talking about sex just because he knew his obnoxiously charming swagger would get a reaction. He genuinely seemed like he was just trying to explain something.

“…they’re just so….”

“Dramatic?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“When I was little, I was staying at a friend’s house and there was this huge storm and her mom could tell I was freaking out a bit, I mean, I was hiding it well of course…” you added, with sarcastic bravado, “but still…and she told me that the thunder was elephants bowling in heaven. I still get that image in my head sometimes when the thunder’s really loud.”

He laughed. “That’s cute.” He said. “When I was younger, Sammy used to have all these books about myths and legends and weird geeky shit…he’s always loved that stuff, little nerd, and I always used to think the thunder was Gods and Goddesses going at it in the sky.”

“What?! Oh my God! How old were you?”

“No….not as a kid kid…and I didn’t actually think that…but I just liked the idea…don’t you think it sounds like the Gods fucking? The roll of bodies….the roar….all raw…wild…savage….”

You waited a second to hear the next peal of thunder. It rolled out, a huge exploding surge of sonic energy unravelling like a violent astronomic orgasm. You had to admit you got what he meant. You looked at him and nodded, conceding his point. You stared out of the window.

“I’m not saying there isn’t a beauty in it. How wild and elemental it is. The formidable power of nature unleashed.”

“Poetic.” He said, not teasing, just noting. You huffed. You were getting carried away but it was hard not to. The storm, the whiskey, him….. “So you like it but you’re scared of it?”

“I’m not scared.”

“Sorry…’unsettled’ by it….which is a less pansy word for the same thing.”

You shot him a warning look and he lifted his shoulders in a modified gesture of ‘what, I’m just asking.’

“Need I remind you that we are on our way back from raiding a vamps nest where I took out several bloodsucker’s without breaking a sweat. I’m not scared…..I know I’m not in danger…It’s just storms like this…they’re so big, so powerful….doesn’t it make you feel small…vulnerable?”

“No. It makes me feel like….all the small stuff…people with their petty bullshit…don’t matter. They’ll come and go. Rains will still fall, thunder will still roll. Demons, vamps…they go bump in the night but that bump doesn’t compare to sound of the sky makes when it’s like this.”

You looked at him and smiled. “Poetic.” You said, but you made sure it came out in a way that let him know you weren’t mocking him. It was nice talking to him like this.

“Whiskey.” He said, shaking the flask at you in reply, modestly and falsely correcting you. “So you’re not scared, fine. But you like it and you don’t? You think it’s beautiful but it also freaks you out?”

You looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “What can I say? I’m complicated.”

The rain lashing against Baby surged in volume as if someone had turned its volume up to 11. You squeezed tighter into him instinctively and were glad when instead of friendly mocking he simply held you tighter.

“No. I mean, I get it.” He said, over the din. “It makes sense. It’s very ‘you’.”

“What does that mean?” You said, instantly defensive, moving away from him slightly.

“No, I don’t mean anything bad by that….” The look on his face showed that he was worried he’d said something over the line. “…like…your drawn to powerful things but also they make you uncomfortable.”

Your eyes narrowed as you stared at him, unsure of what he meant.

“Like….well, like you. You’re crazy beautiful but when you get dolled up and go out and guys all swarm around you, it freaks you out….so you go home early or you wear less make up or jeans instead of dresses but that doesn’t work because that’s not what it’s about and you’re still really beautiful. So it’s just all this weirdness….whereas you could just accept it, own it, stop being afr-…’unsettled’by it.”

“What are you talking about!” You said, genuinely baffled by him, and pulling further away from him. Was he actually drunk? You knew him and he hadn’t had nearly enough whiskey for it to have had an effect but you didn’t get what he was babbling about. You felt your brow furrowing and the confusion on your face.

“I’m just saying…I see a pattern. Power makes you feel vulnerable and I’m just saying…thunder, you, us….it’s the same thing.”

“OK…firstly….I’ll repeat with emphasis…what the actual fuck are you talking about? And secondly…since when are you doing this Dr. Phil meets Oprah meets Freud, ‘open a vein and let me analyse you’ bullshit? And…what do you mean ‘us’? ‘Us’ who?”

He had been keeping a look of exaggerated patience on his face, a placatory ‘Don’t shoot the Messenger’ expression, but that last part made his whole face change. Now he was giving you a ‘Are you kidding me?’ glare.

“Really?” He said, being unnecessarily challenging, you thought.

“I don’t know what you are talking about? Are you hammered? Did you hit your head? Are you having a stroke?”

He did a strange laugh that wasn’t really a laugh and said it again but with almost comical disbelief, “Really?”

“Dean, I genuinely do not know what you are talking about but I’d really like you to explain yourself because if you don’t, and I mean right now, I swear to God…”

He raised his eyebrow at you, calling you on your empty unfinished threat, before pulling a pained expression to show he was humouring you but at great personal cost.

“Us. You and me.” He said, as if it was a simple statement of fact rather than something that made absolutely no sense. He motioned between the two of you, as if that made anything clearer.

“We’ve never…..”

He rolled his eyes, his patience obviously tested. “No, I know ‘we’ve never’….I don’t mean that.”

“Then what?”

He looked at you stunned. “So…..there’s never been anything between us? That’s what you are telling me?”

“I mean….you’re one of my best friends. You and Sam. So yeah, of course there’s that…”

He blinked at you slowly. He looked serious. And a little wounded. “OK. My bad. We’re friends. Thunder’s loud. It’s raining. It’s bedtime. S’all good.” He said, tipping the flask to see how much booze it still held. It was empty. He exhaled loudly through his nose and leaned forward to get a beer out of the cooler. “Do you want one?” He asked, but there was a slight note of annoyance in his tone. You shook your head.

He opened his bottle and leaned back, folding his arms across his chest and letting his head fall back against the seat, shutting his eyes.

“You can’t just say that and then….go to sleep?” You asked, annoyance bristling.

“What?” He said, voice calm and modulated. “You said there wasn’t anything there. I was wrong. There’s nothing else to say.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Your annoyance was blossoming into actual anger. He ignored you which hardly helped. “Dean!” You said, loudly, pushing his leg with your foot, not hard but to try and get his attention.

“Did you just…..did you just kick me?” He asked, incredulously, his eyes opening to give you a disapproving look before shutting again. “Sweetheart, that’s the least effective way to get me to do anything. You should know that. Oh, right…you wouldn’t know. Because there’s nothing between us.”

You were dumbfounded. What was happening? Why was he acting like a pouting child? You wracked your mind to try and see what you must have missed. Yes, you flirted and yes, you found him attractive, maybe you’d even had a crush on him, maybe a small part of you always had but you’d never told him and you hid it well you thought, and anyway that hardly equated to what he seemed to be getting at. And as far as you were aware, he’d flirted but he flirted with everyone, you had never had any reason to think he ‘liked’ you.

“Are you really going to go to sleep right now?” You asked, your indignation ratchetting up. “Dean…can you please just talk to me?”

Silence. Great, now he was ignoring you.

“Dean…..fucking stop this now or….or I’ll…..” What were you going to do? He thought he had you over a barrel. There was nowhere for you to go and nothing for you to do but sit and stew in the awkwardness of the car. It had been so nice just minutes ago. You frustration was mounting, mixing with anger and confusion. How dare he just throw that conversational hand grenade at you and then refuse to engage?

“Fine….fuck this…..” You said, reaching for the door handle and opening the car door.

“Y/N?! What are you-“

You slammed the door behind you, hard, instantly feeling bad for taking your anger out on Baby, and started walking. The rain was cold and heavy. You were soaked almost instantly. You already knew this was a bad decision. You heard him get out of the car.

“Y/N? Are you fucking crazy?” He shouted, over the clap of thunder that rolled. You walked faster, almost running, where to, you didn’t know but you were mad and you needed to be away from him. “Would you stop?!” He shouted. No. You would not.

The barn came into view. It was so dark that you didn’t see it until it was right in front of you. The storm had caused you to be disoriented, but you saw it now. You marched with purpose towards it.

You felt his hand on your arm as he pulled you back. “What are you doing?” He shouted over the noise of the rain. His brow was creased in consternation. The downpour had soaked him. His hair was wet, all of him was wet. Even through your annoyance you registered that it was a good look on him, drenched to the bone. You wrenched your arm out of his grip.

“You wanted to sleep. So go to fucking sleep. But I won’t sit in that car with you ignoring me and being weird. You’re supposed to be my friend…and you’re just being moody and bratty and…and cryptic.”

You had kept on marching, heavy strides through mud in your socks, and you were now at the barn doors.

“I’m being bratty?” He shouted after you, doing little to diffuse the situation.

You picked up a rock and smashed it against the rusted padlock on the doors. Wow, you thought, anger made you strong. You strode inside. It was old and barren and dark. This was an awful idea. But you had committed to it now and your pride wouldn’t let you turn around. Dean snuck in behind you.

You turned to face him, both of you were soaked to the skin, rain still dripping from your hair, your noses, your skin.

“Y/N…what the hell? You’re gonna catch pneumonia for fuck’s sake.”

He wasn’t wrong. You were shivering. He moved away, towards a beam where there was evidently a light switch. He turned it on and there was light, admittedly, very dim light, from three bulbs spaced out across the interior vastness, but you could see.

“I thought this place was abandoned? How is there light?”

“Generator obviously still has some charge in it.”

“How did you even know where the switch was?”

“I told you, I’ve been through here many times. I’ve been in here before. Chased a whole pack of werewolves through here once-“ He stopped as if catching himself and shook his head, “Wait! That’s what we’re talking about?”

You wondered away from him slightly but he reached out and pulled you back.

“Look…can you just stop running away from me?” He noticed the quake in you through his hand on your arm. “Jesus. You really are gonna catch your death. What were you thinking?”

You didn’t answer.

“Now you’re giving me the silent treatment? You are the only person I know who’s more pig headed than me! Can we just go back? I know Baby was cold but she’s warmer than here.”

You looked at him, your features grave and defiant and your eyebrow raised despite your shiver getting more violent with each passing moment. Thunder still beat out in the sky and lightning strobed in through the windows and cracks.

“No. We’re soaked. I’m not getting into her like this!”

He nearly smiled. Nearly but he didn’t let himself. You knew it was because it warmed his heart that you always treated his baby with consideration. But you hadn’t said it to please him. He let out a sound of frustration and then he let you go. He wandered away to a far corner of the barn, looking for God knows what amongst what looked to be an old car, an old rusted tractor and piles of sacks of something. Feed? Grain? Whatever. You knew this had been a foolish and ridiculous thing to do but you’d be damned if you let him know that. You heard him do something that involved a loud bang and the boot of the old car screeching open. You walked over to the ladder up to what you imagined must be the hay loft. He came over, his arms laden with what looked like blankets. You looked at him enquiringly.

“They were in the car, with this.” He said, holding up an oil lamp. “Guess it’s our lucky day.”

He always managed to find the right thing at the right time, you thought, but you didn’t say anything. Instead you climbed up the ladder, largely just so you looked like you knew what you were doing. Which you absolutely did not.

He followed you up and lit the lamp with his lighter. You looked around, for an old abandoned building there sure was a lot of hay in the hay loft.

“You better get out of those wet clothes.” He said, and you turned to face him, ferociously. “Yeah, I know it sounds like a line but I mean it. I’m being deadly serious. You’ll get hypothermia or some shit.” He turned around, making a big show of facing away from you and covering his eyes. He held up a blanket.

“You want me to get naked and cover myself up in some stranger’s gross old blanket?”

“If it helps, I’ll get naked and lie on the blanket and you can lie on me?” He said, and it nearly made you laugh. How did he do that? He’d say something that if anyone else said it would be painfully obnoxious and just made it sound…..cute. You huffed and grabbed the blanket and walked away from him, just slightly, the hay loft wasn’t that big either.

You peeled his cardigan, your dress, your socks and your bra and panties off. It felt weird to be naked and dripping with rain, cold and exposed, so near him. You wrapped the blanket around you and went to sit on a nearby bale, still shivering.

“You done?” He asked, still facing away from you, shielding his eyes dramatically.

“Yes.” You said, your voice still sounded angry, though the cold, drowned rat feeling you had had actually dulled your rage.

“OK.” He said, removing his jacket.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t want hypothermia either.” He said, peeling his t shirt off his toned torso and going to undo his belt.

Your eyes widened and you swivelled to look away. Though some small part of you didn’t want to. He turned around and pulled his jeans down.

“It’s OK. I don’t mind putting on a show.” He said, and you rolled your eyes. You couldn’t tell if he was acting like this because it was his default setting or to overcompensate for the weirdness of the situation. You looked over at him and he winked at you. Oh, he was trying to thaw you out, emotionally speaking. He knew you found it hard to stay mad at him when he was like this. It was a good tactic. You felt yourself wanting to joke around with him instead of keeping up your frosty attitude. He picked up the blanket and held it around him before shuffling out of his boxers and removing his socks.

“I thought there was gonna be a show?”

“Not even gonna buy me dinner first?” He said, jokily.

He picked up another blanket and came and sat next to you, using it like a towel to dry you and rub it over your arms vigorously, the friction helping dry you and spread heat. As if you were a small child at bath time.

“I can’t believe you got out of the car.” He said, but he was chuckling slightly as he said it, and shaking his head. “Such a fucking hothead. You’re just…..you’re a fiesty fucking thing, aren’t you?”

“Urgh! Can you stop being so fucking patronising?”

“Don’t lose your shit again. I can’t chase you somewhere else. We’re only just getting you warm.”

“You know if you’d been like this before, I wouldn’t have had to leave.”

“’Had’ to? Really?”

You watched him towelling you and saw his hair, still dripping. It looked good but it probably wasn’t helping him to get warm. You took the bunched up blanket off him and replicated his actions, rubbing and drying across his arms and shoulders. He leaned into it when you got to his hair, a slight smile on his face, his eyes shut and an actual look of contented enjoyment. If it hadn’t been so adorable you’d have stopped then and there. But it was. It really was.

You were still shivering. You were warmer than before, no doubt, but you were struggling to heat up properly.

“Don’t get mad, OK…..?” He said, tentatively. You looked at him, guardedly, your eyes narrowing. “I know how this sounds…but you know the best thing to do, like actually, to stave off hypothermia…is to share body heat. I’m not trying to be a sleaze bag, honestly. I know it sounds bad but really, we just need to get you warmer. You’re still shaking.”

Although it definitely sounded like one of his lines, you had actually heard this before. And you were still so, so cold.

“Fine.” You said as he looked at with widening eyes. He’d expected you to put up more of a fight. You may have if he hadn’t looked genuinely concerned about your temperature. And although he wasn’t shaking like you were, he was obviously cold too. You may be in an argument but you still wanted him to be OK.

He lay down across the carpet of hay and motioned for you to do the same, which you did. He licked his lips nervously and made a big show of looking up at the rafters. You followed suit as he lifted his blanket open.

“Um…you wanna roll in?”

You swallowed, keeping your eyes glued to the beams of the vaulted ceiling. Then you spread your blanket wide too and moved forward, rolling into him. He brought the blanket back down and rolled you both up into it, taking yours and adding it as another layer around you both. How, you thought, had you ended up skin to skin, naked against him? You were supposed to be at home, in the safety of the bunker. The warm, dry bunker…

When you brought your eyes down from the ceiling, they settled on his eyes, still vivid green even in the low lamp light. He smiled at you, slightly awkwardly, not his usual cocky grin.

“There ya go…..Snug as a bug in a rug.” He said.

You could feel his junk against you but didn’t want to mention it, though it made you smile embarrassedly despite yourself.

“Hey, don’t….I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

“Dean, we are lying naked against each other like some sort of human burrito. How exactly are you ‘being a gentleman’ right now?”

“If you gotta ask…” He said, his eyes flickering downwards. You were pulled tight into each other so his view was compromised but he could obviously see the swell of the top of your breasts. It wasn’t so bad, just like a low cut top perhaps, but they were smooshed against his pecs. There was no getting away from it, it was a very awkward and compromising position. “Think boring things…think dull, dull, boring things…” He muttered under his breath which made you laugh. “Don’t!” He said. “No…jiggling.”

The whole situation was beyond absurd. But also…..you were definitely warming up. He moved his legs so his feet stroked against yours trying to warm them through motion and contact and he moved his arms up and down your back. You knew it was to warm you up. It was care and concern. But you were just so close. It felt so…intimate. The thunder and lightning were still raging on, they still came with flashes of light and loud explosive echoes and the rain still lashed against the roof loudly.

“You alright?” He asked.

“You know it’s really hard to stay mad at you when you’re being so kind and concerned.”

“Don’t say that word.”

“What? ‘Concerned’?”

“No. ‘Hard’.”

“Dean!”

“What…I’m just saying….besides you stopped being mad at me the minute I took my t shirt off.”

You hated that he was right.

“Why were you being such a dick before?”

“Don’t say that word either.”

“Dean….”

“Well, why were you being such a….so difficult after?”

You looked at him, his soft features so close, glowing in the dim light. You didn’t want to fight. You just wanted to know.

“I was frustrated because I didn’t know what you were talking about and then you went all cold and silent. I should have handled it better-“

“You think?”

“I just said, so yes. Now you go.” He was quiet but not moodily, he just obviously felt awkward. “Please.”

“I just thought that a while ago there was something between us. Feelings or whatever. And then there weren’t. Or that’s what it seemed like anyway. And I just always thought it was because you got scared or didn’t want to ruin our friendship or something. So that’s what I was getting at. Because it did seem very ‘you’…to feel something like that and get scared and back away-“

“Me? That sounds like you?”

“Takes one to know one I guess. Or not. I mean, clearly, I was wrong and you didn’t feel it. So, yeah. It was just me. And I made a mistake. And I felt like a d-, was embarrassed and didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t realise you were gonna go all kamikaze and try and drown yourself in the downpour.”

He was resolutely not making eye contact with you as his arms still ran over you, trying to warm you up and the rain was still cacophonous against the roof. You swallowed, you could feel how vulnerable he was being with you and it made you want to let him know it was OK.

“Hey…” You said, shuffling slightly to get him to look at you.

“Y/N…no jiggling.”

“I wasn’t ‘jiggling’!”

“No moves of any kind.”

“They aren’t sexy moves.”

“It’s you and we’re very close and naked and literally wrapped up together. They are all sexy moves.”

You took the compliment and realised that for the first time in a while, you weren’t cold anymore, in fact you felt like you might be a little flushed.

“When?”

“What?”

“When did you think there was something between us?”

He looked at you, warningly, as if to ask you to stop. There was a hurt embarrassed vulnerability in his eyes that made you instinctively move to put your arm up and stroke the back of his neck. You hadn’t meant to do something so intimate but he looked so vulnerable and sweet that you’d wanted to reassure him.

As you stroked the nape of his neck, running your fingers through his hair you realised the gesture was not as wholesomely affectionate as you had meant it to be. It had just felt natural in the moment but now you were both sort or….in each other’s arms…and you were running your hands through his hair. He shut his eyes and shook his head slightly.

“Y/N……You really can’t do that. It feels……You shouldn’t….do that.” He half whispered in a low deep voice that rumbled out and made you feel even warmer.

You knew you shouldn’t but it was difficult not to want to.

“Sorry.” You said, your voice coming out lower and sultrier than your normal tone despite you not meaning it to.

He looked like he was fighting against a physical impulse. He swallowed and you watched his jaw clench. You felt something stir deep inside of you and removed your hand. Maybe he was right? You thought. Things felt like they could get too real and it was making you feel unsettled. Who knew Dean Winchester was so astute when it came to emotions?

He cleared his throat. “So…um…yeah…you had a question…” He said, desperate to change the subject even if it felt like jumping from out of the frying pan into the fire.

With his eyes still shut he started talking.

“I always thought you were hot. It’s just….you are. It’s not a big deal. But then we got to know each other better…got closer…and I realised that I really liked you…as a person…and I mean, you can be friends with hot women, I know that but sometimes we’d flirt and I’d think…she’s beautiful and funny and a great hunter and sexy as hell and when we’d go drinking it was fun and when we’d make burgers in the kitchen or go driving in Baby, it was always such a good time and I just….I thought there was something there…you seemed to like spending time with me and I know you care about Sammy too but you didn’t flirt with him like you did with me so I just thought….you know…classic case of two and two equalling five, I guess. And I mean, then you stopped anyway so…no harm no foul, right? Can we not talk about it anymore? Can we just forget I said anything?”

“No.” You said. “Look…I do care about Sam and I care about you. But you aren’t totally wrong…I guess we did flirt, we still sort of do…I just thought it was just a thing we did.”

“Maybe, but it’s not the same as it was. Yeah, I say smart mouth shit and you let me, but before it was…different. At one point I thought it meant something different, before I thought it was heading somewhere. But you know…I was wrong.”

“Before when?”

“Before Omaha.”

“Oh.” You said. You hadn’t meant to but you’d instinctively pulled away from him, as much as you could in the tight swaddle of the blankets.

He looked at you, brow furrowed and pulled you back in, tight. “I don’t care if you’re mad at me. We still have to keep you warm.” He said, matter of factly.

You weren’t mad at him, but mentioning that time in Omaha had touched a raw nerve in you.

You and Sam and Dean had gone there on a case there a year or so ago. It was at the height of you and Dean flirting. It must’ve been because you remembered even Sam mentioning it.

“What’s going on with you and my brother?” He’d asked, in the motel room when Dean had gone out to get pizzas.

“What? Nothing…you know what Dean’s like…he flirts with everyone.”

“Maybe.” He’d said, eyeing you suspiciously, “I don’t know…feels like there’s more to it. And also…he might but you don’t.”

“Just giving him a taste of his own medicine.” You’d said, sailing off to the bathroom to get ready. After pizza you were all going to the bar down the street to celebrate dusting the Vetala’s that had drawn you there. Or at least that had been the plan but when you were heading out Sam had changed his mind saying he’d rather stay in and catch ‘Beastmaster’ on TV.

“Haven’t you seen that like a hundred times?” You asked. He nodded as if he didn’t see your point. “Well, we can stay and watch it with you?”

“I ain’t watching it again…” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Plus…I don’t buy it. I think Sammy here just wants a little alone time with ‘Casa Erotica’ and the magic fingers. I mean…that’s what I’d do…” He nodded his head at Sam with his eyebrow raised as if trying to coax the truth out of him. Sam had just huffed at him and ushered you both out the door. He hadn’t denied it though, you noted.

You and Dean had headed to the bar and started drinking. Drinking and flirting, like you did back then.

“So….never?” He’d asked.

“No…Dean….I’ve never ridden a mechanical bull.” You’d laughed. “I wouldn’t be as good as I’ve heard you are anyway, so I’ll just leave it to you. I’d probably come off it in a matter of seconds.”

“I don’t know….something like you on top of it? Not even Larry’d want to kick you off.”

“Larry?” You’d asked. “It was called Larry?”

“Hey….I won’t hear a bad word said about my pal Larry.”

“Sorry…you’re right. I respect a man who doesn’t bad mouth his exes.”

He’d smiled and then looked past you excited. “Hey…hey….pool table’s free. You can try and beat me.”

“I’ve beaten you before!”

“Well….let’s just see if you can do it again. Care to make it interesting?”

“What do you want?”

He’d looked at you, up and down, where you sat and bit his lower lip. He looked so sexy that you had to remind yourself that it wasn’t personal, that this was just his way.

“What are you offering?” He said, his voice rich and deep and low. There was a beat while you tried to figure out what to say next. You didn’t want to back down from the flirty exchange, didn’t want to let him win, but you weren’t sure what to say that wouldn’t betray your hand…wouldn’t push the game too far or let him know that you really did want him. “C’mon…you can think about it while you go get the table, before someone else gets it. You go rack up? Oh…and you can break. Give you a chance to get a shot in before I get back. I gotta go drain the lizard.”

“Urgh….gross.” You said, getting up and grabbing your beer as you made your way to the table.

You racked up and chalked a cue. It was weird because it had started to feel oddly like a date. He’d asked what you wanted…it was an interesting question. You’d been thinking about it while you bent over to line up the break. Then you felt strong hands behind you settling in around your waist. That was new….

“Are you trying to put me off my shot?” You asked, turning round. It wasn’t Dean. “What the fuck?” You asked the drunk frat boy looking dude in front of you.

“Whoa! I’m sorry…” He slurred, drunkenly. “I thought you were….before….my friend…a girl I’m seeing…she was playing here….I’m…shit.”

“Do you see any of your friends here right now?” You asked him, annoyed but recognising that he’d made a genuine mistake.

“No…shit….I’m sorry. I’m a little wasted right now. I don’t….did they leave without me?”

“Erm…I don’t know….The table was empty when I got here.”

He searched his pockets. “I don’t….I can’t find my phone.”

This fucking guy, you thought. You looked at him and saw how young he was…probably not even legally supposed to drink. He definitely looked worse for wear.

“Hey buddy, are you OK?” You asked. You felt bad for him.

He shook his head. “Too much Johnnie Walker. I was sick….and I think they all left without me….and I can’t find my phone.”

“Want to borrow mine?”

“I don’t know anyone’s numbers? They’re all in my-“

“Your phone. Yeah, got it.” You looked at him. He looked confused and like a little kid. Please don’t cry, you silently willed of him. “Look just…have you searched all your pockets…properly?”

He took a weird staggery step back and you instinctively reached out to stop him from falling. You put your arm around him and walked him over to a stool near the back wall. It took a little while, to explain that you were going to help him look and then to find his phone which was in the inside pocket of his jacket, the one you hadn’t known was there, then to find out the name of his friend and call her and explain and then longer still for his buddies to come back and get him. They’d thought he’d left. They seemed pretty buzzed too. In all of this you wondered repeatedly, where the hell was Dean?

Once you’d gotten the guy safely back to his friends you were genuinely confused. You’d had to let the pool table go and you’d called his cell but he hadn’t picked up. What the fuck was going on?

You’d wandered around the bar a few times and even asked a guy to go check the men’s room. He wouldn’t just leave you there? You walked outside to see if he was out there and on your way around the side of the building caught sight of a couple making out up against the wall. And then you recognised his jacket.

“Dean?” You asked, shocked and angry. Disproportionately angry.

He pulled away from the blonde pushed up against the wall and turned to face you.

“Oh…hey, Y/N.” He said. He seemed wasted. Was everyone else smashed in this place but you?

“What the…? What the fuck?”

“Is this your girlfriend?” The blonde slurred at him.

“No. Just my friend.” He said, his arm still around her waist. “Where’s your date?” He asked.

“What?”

“I came back from the john and you were with some guy…so I figured you’d got lucky.” He smiled at you but it was a strange smile. “So…I thought I’d leave you to it. Went to the bar…had a few shots…”

“Six!” Shouted Blondie, “We did six shots!”

“Met Jenny here-“

“Jane. My name’s Jane.”

“Yeah, of course. Jane.” He said. He was acting like such a douche right now.

“He was just a kid and he was drunk and he needed help. It didn’t occur to you to come see what was going on?”

“I don’t know. You looked pretty cozy when I saw you….and I thought…you know, it’s been a while for you-“

“What?” You could have slapped him right there.

“If you’d looked like you were in trouble I would’ve come over but you looked fine. Better than fine. You were all over each other-“

“He could barely stand he was so wasted.”

“Well…I didn’t know that. You looked like you were getting friendly…and I mean…good for you right?” He sounded weirdly bitter.

He had no right to be jealous.

But then again, neither did you.

You turned around and stormed away from them but he followed you.

“Y/N? What…are you mad right now?”

“Nope.” You lied as you inwardly seethed.

“Look…I’m sorry if there was a misunderstanding. I thought I was doing you a solid. Maybe I should have come over but….I didn’t want to look like some asshole defending his territory…because…you’re not, are you? You’re not mine so….”

You took a deep breath. He had you there. He hadn’t actually done anything wrong.

“Hey…are you coming back or…?” Blonde Jane shouted across the car park.

“I’m just tired. It’s all fine. I’m gonna go back I think…you should stay.” And you’d walked, quickly away from him, and her, wondering why the fuck you were crying.

He didn’t follow you that time.

You had wiped away your tears by the time you got back to the room. Sam was already in bed, asleep and you remembered it was your turn to share with Dean tonight. You got ready for bed, taking off your make up and getting into your pyjama bottoms and old t shirt before tucking yourself between the sheets.

You had no right to be jealous. Or angry. Or hurt. But you were all those things.

The previous night you had shared a bed with Sam. Giant Sam. And it had been fine, barring the odd accidental leg touch, which was surprising given how massive he was. But the night before that, your first night here, you’d shared with Dean. Slowly throughout the night, you’d found yourself closer, you hadn’t meant to, it had just…happened…and then, you’d somehow found yourselves almost spooning. You hadn’t been able to sleep despite knowing that you needed your rest if there was hunting to be done the next day. You’d found it hard to drift off, how could you? He was so, so close. Almost touching. Almost, but not quite. And then…you’d felt his hand on you as you lay facing away from him in the dark. It had landed on your waist, touching your skin where your t shirt had ridden up. It was a soft touch as it splayed against you, almost a stroke. You’d thought for a moment that he might move it, snake it down under the waist band of your pyjama bottoms or up under the fabric of your t shirt. You hadn’t been scared that he would. But you’d been scared how much you wanted him to. You’d frozen.

“Y/N?” He’d whispered.

In the moment, you hadn’t known what to do. So you had stayed silent, trying your hardest to modulate your breathing so it sounded like you were asleep. Which was hard because you were finding it hard to breathe at all. He gave it a moment and then he took his hand away and rolled away, further from you. You didn’t know what might have happened and you never would, you thought. Sam had been mere feet from you in the other bed so you imagined nothing, but you had wondered what he had wanted, though you had never mentioned it.

That night in Omaha, after the bar, you had realised what a risky game you had been playing with him. You hated the way you felt but he was right. You were nothing to each other but friends and you vowed that from there on out you’d be mindful of that. You lived with them, you hunted with them and they were you friends. That was all.

The next morning when you woke up, Sam had asked where Dean was.

“I think he got lucky.” You said, trying your hardest to be breezy about it even though he was looking at you weirdly. “What?” You asked him in response to his strange look, trying with all your might to not to sound aggrieved.

“No, nothing.” He said.

And when Dean rolled in, looking hungover, Sam had looked at him disapprovingly though you were careful to keep your face impassive.

“You look like shit. Heavy night?” Sam asked.

“Something like that.” Dean had replied. You felt the jealousy twisting in your chest but reminded yourself that that was exactly why you had to keep your distance in future.

“Well, if you’ve been up all night, um…I imagine you didn’t get much sleeping done so…I’m driving.”

Dean didn’t say anything, just threw him the keys. When Sam had been going to load up the car and check out, you’d made to go with him but Dean had reached for your arm as you walked past him.

“Y/N, about last ni-“ He’d started.

You had turned to him with what you hoped was a convincing false smile plastered on your face. ‘It’s not his fault,’ you reminded yourself, ‘He’s done nothing wrong.’ “Hey buddy, you better get your shit together, we got a long old drive ahead of us. And don’t worry about last night. We’re all good.” You smiled at him and sailed out the door.

From then on you had made sure that you always got your own hotel room when you went hunting. The first time you did, Sam had questioned you on it, saying it was cheaper to just share and wondering why you were so insistent this time, seeing as how you’d never seemed bothered before.

“It’s weird, Sam! We’re grown adults…two guys and a woman…I don’t want people getting the wrong idea. Plus…you snore.”

“What? I do not!” He’d said, but he never asked you again and it had just become what you did.

And that was Omaha. It still stung slightly when you thought about it. Which was why you never did. Why you never let yourself. Until tonight.

Another loud clap of thunder made you jump, dragging you back from your memories.

“You haven’t said anything for a really long time.” He said, in a quiet, subdued tone.

“What would you like me to say?”

He shrugged. Then he asked, “Are you still cold?”

“A little.” You answered honestly, “But I’ll live.”

You had expected him to take his hands off you but he didn’t.

“Are you? Still cold?” You asked.

“I’m sorry.” He said, sounding genuinely full of regret and ignoring your question.

“What for?”

“Bringing up Omaha? Saying anything that made you uncomfortable tonight? Making you so mad you got out of the car and nearly froze to death? Take your pick.”

He looked so remorseful. So wounded and sad. You hated seeing him like this.

“Dean…it’s fine. You’re fine. Even in Omaha…you didn’t do anything wrong. You are perfectly within your rights to bang hot blonde chicks whenever you like. You don’t owe me anything.”

“What?” He looked confused, his brows furrowed and his emerald eyes curiously searching your face. “I didn’t ‘bang’ anyone…what are you talking about?”

“The blonde girl you were dry humping through the side of the bar?”

“Y/N…there was no humping of any kind…dry or…otherwise. I kissed her…and then you came out and we spoke and then I went back to Baby and drank a bottle and a half of whiskey until I passed out.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what I do?”

“No…why didn’t you just come back to the room?”

He licked his lips as he thought for a moment. “I thought it’d be better if I didn’t. I knew we were supposed to be sharing that night and I didn’t think you’d want to. And…I’d started to feel weird sharing a bed with you…”

“Why?”

He shrugged and pouted. “We weren’t more than friends but…I didn’t feel friendly when I was lying next to you. Or maybe I felt too friendly.” He tried to laugh but it was weak. “It made me feel like a creep.”

“So…that night…when you reached out…?”

“I knew you weren’t asleep!” He said. It came out almost comically violent as he shook his head in vindication. He took a breath. “Whatever. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. Anyway, that’s why I slept in Baby.”

“And why did you get so smashed? Don’t say it’s just what you do…there’s usually a reason…”

“Is there?” He questioned, his eyes narrowing as his voice got higher. You raised your eyebrow at him, urging him to answer the question. He exhaled deeply. He looked so, so uncomfortable. “I was pissed. I was mad at myself. I mean…those are usually my reasons, right?…Look, I had thought that all the flirting and the laughing meant something, that it was leading somewhere, and that night…I was having fun with you and I thought maybe…maybe something might happen. And then I went to the can and when I came back I saw you with that guy and…I was so jealous. So fucking jealous. Normally when guys’d hit on you, you’d just tell ‘em to fuck off or come find me or Sam and let them assume you were with us and so this time…when it looked like you were letting him put his arm around you…I wanted to punch a wall or something. I wanted to come over and kick his ass but then I thought…I had no right. And so I went and downed a bunch of shots and that girl was flirting with me and I thought, well, Y/N’s getting some…it was stupid but I was…hurt, I guess. And then when you came outside and said what had happened, I felt stupid, but I was drunk and I’d already ruined it. I thought maybe you’d been jealous too. I wanted to talk to you about it the next day but…you were fine. Obviously not jealous!” He huffed a small self effacing laugh, “And that was that. Crossed wires, I guess. Please…please…can we just….put all of this behind us? I was wrong, OK? I’m sorry.”

He lifted his eyes that had been downcast in embarrassment, to yours and he looked so honest, so vulnerable. It undid you slightly.

“Dean….you weren’t entirely wrong…I was jealous. I hated seeing you with her and maybe…there were some…feelings. But I knew I had no right. You didn’t owe me anything….”

He looked at you confused, as if trying to piece together what you were saying. “Did you want me to? To owe you something?”

You opened your mouth but shut it again realising you didn’t know what to say. The silence between you - as you flailed and he stared - felt dramatic against the rain falling loudly against the roof and the crash of thunder that filled the vacuum your inability to speak had left.

“So I was right? There was something…between us?” He said, but he wasn’t gloating, he was just looking for clarity.

You nodded slowly. It was your turn now to look away, embarrassed.

“And now…?”

“Well…technically there’s nothing between us right now….” You said, forcing a weak smile.

“I’m very, very aware of that.” He said, his voice deep and gruff. “But that’s not what I meant and you know it….was I right before? Did you feel something…for me…and did it scare you…like the thunder? Do you still feel it…now?”

“I told you, I’m not scar-“

“Y/N.” He said your name, not as a warning but a plea for honesty. A serious heartfelt request for you to cut the crap and just tell him. Tell him what you felt. Tell him the truth.

“I don’t know. Maybe….yes, OK…there were feelings before and there are feelings now. And I mean, if any man was thunder, it would definitely be you…wild and unruly…loud…” You laughed a little before carrying on more seriously. “…powerful…a force of nature…potentially devastating…”

“Hey,” He said, softly, “You don’t have to be scared of me. Ever.” He moved one arm up through the tight roll of the blanket to place his hand against your cheek, gently stroking your cheekbone with his thumb as he lifted your head slightly. “And I told you…the thunder?…If you stop being scared of it, it can just be sexy…if you let it…let me show you…is it OK if I show you?”

You looked into his eyes, his deep sparkling eyes and knew you should say something about not ruining your friendship or about how handsome he was and how all women wanted him and how the idea of him being with you made you insecure and terrified. You knew all that but you were so tired of thinking all those things. You were so tired of fighting back the way you wanted him. Perhaps the deafening racket of nature drowned out the riotous din of your fear. Because you just nodded. It was all you could do.

And with that he leaned in to kiss you, his soft, full lips meeting yours finally after so many years and misunderstandings. The kiss deepened as he rolled you, both of still in the tight hold of the blankets.

You felt all the worries and the concerns you’d had. And all the ones you’d never let yourself voice, even to yourself. They were all there in the back of your mind but it was so hard to think clearly while you felt the warmth and strength of his body, so solid and powerful above you and the tenderness of his kiss as it gave way to something deeper, hungrier. You felt him hardening against your thigh. Clearly the time for gentlemanly conduct was over.

The furious peals of thunder in the sky raged as the punishing roar of the rain continued on and on but it didn’t sound like anger anymore, it sounded like something that had been caged, forcibly tamed into submission, finally breaking free. Unbridled, unleashed and wild, sure, but free. Powerful and free.

His kisses too were unrestrained, deep and desperate, moving to your neck where they ignited nerves that ran down to parts of you he hadn’t touched yet as his hands swept over you; all motion and heat against your skin; your back, your arms, your neck, your breasts. The sound of his breathing had a louder, more driven rhythm of its own, insistent like the rain, full of force like the thunder. As you both moved, you could feel his hardness moving, slicked between your folds, not searching for purchase yet …just there. Like all of it…the storm, the feelings, him…the desire that was building…it was all just there. You could be afraid of how much you felt, how good it felt, what tomorrow might bring - of the very wildness of all of it…or you could just surrender. Let it be whatever it was and just surrender.

He tried to move back from you but the blanket kept him trapped in its tight swaddle and you pulled him back towards you, taking in the masculine heady scent of him and the heat from his body as it moved, the saltiness of his sweat against your lips as you kissed and the tension in his grip as his hands moved through your hair.

“I want to taste you.” He breathed out deeply into your ear, “And touch you…..everywhere. Feel you. I want to feel you.” He snaked a hand down between your bodies and you felt his exploring fingers on your clit and between your lips, heard his low growl as he felt how wet you were. You wanted to taste him too. To feel him. You wanted to experience all of him in every way and it was overwhelming. You wanted all of it but as felt his fingers deftly teasing your entrance, you realised that what you wanted most of all, what you needed, was to feel him moving inside of you.

“I want to taste you too…later…” You moaned out at him and he looked at you, pupils blown and full of lust.

He kissed you again as he moved his hand to prop up his weight. A flash of lightning illuminated him on top of you, the toned definition of his chest, the way his face looked – so handsome, lost in you, lost how good it felt.

You felt his back under your hands as he dipped his lower half to roll against you. You felt his cock, so hard, moving over your clit and down through your wet lips. You felt him find where your body gave against him and you heard the thunder overhead. And then you felt him push into you, and all the sensations surged at once. The fullness as he moved in you, the pleasure of his body against yours, his pelvis against your clit, his skin all over yours, his hands, his mouth, his voice and the deep groans he made. Your hands on him, on his back and in his hair. You wanted to shut your eyes because it felt so good but also you wanted to see him. He looked beautiful but also so, so sexy as he fucked you. It felt sweet and natural and violent all at once.

It felt like you were Gods, fucking in heaven.

He said your name, in a deep low whisper into your ear and it all seemed to be getting faster and deeper. Harder.

It was the most delicious surrender as you let go and felt yourself coming around him, whispering his name too. It felt absolutely right that the skies should be shaking and exploding with noise and light. That powerful rolling howl that had been roaring all night, powerful and unrelenting, is what it felt like as the wave ripped through your body, taking over and spreading itself all through you and then all through him too, in undulating movements and loud wracked grunts.

The storm raged on as he slowed, kissing you in an easy messy trail from your mouth down your neck. You both lay there for a moment in the quiet of the barn, amid the loudness of the skies. Until he moved slightly and you rearranged yourselves, still a tangle of limbs and flesh in the tight thick blankets.

You were both quiet for a while, listening to the storm as you gently stroked and kissed. He smiled at you. A lot. And you smiled back.

And later there was more touching. Tasting. More fucking and rolling, more thunder and rain.

‘It feels like this storm, this night, will go on forever’, you thought, though you knew, of course that it wouldn’t. But as he ran his fingers over your skin, smiling at you so wide that the skin by his eyes crinkled up, it felt easy somehow to just let it be. You weren’t scared anymore. And it felt good. It felt beautiful and wild and free.


End file.
